Time is a Real Killer
by nerdsandnutella
Summary: After Bruce's death, Dick and Damian are trying to figure out how to work as a team. Will Dick be able to keep his fearless brother from harm, or will Damian jump into something he can't get out of?
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! I was not expecting that many reviews in such a short period of time (actually I wasn't really expecting any at all) but omg here we are! I cannot thank you guys enough. Seriously. You all are wonderful people. Reviews make my day. Ask and you shall receive! This fic will probably end up being around 5 chapters, and you can expect updates at least every week until it's finished.

Warnings: Language, some gore

 **This was prompt #3 in my fic "Batman Shorts." If you haven't checked it out yet, please go review and tell me which numbers you would like turned into full length stories! The more popularity there is with a number, the faster it will be written!**

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, but the plot is mine.

* * *

"Breathe for me, D. Just breathe. That's it." Every time Damian took a breath, he made an awful gurgling sound, an obvious sign of heavily broken ribs. Tonight, Killer Croc might just live up to his name.

 _Hours Before_

It was cold. It was wet. And Damian hated it.

He shivered, feeling miserable. Grayson had planned a stakeout of a possible major drug ring meeting that Robin was currently assigned to. The bust wasn't supposed to happen until later that week, so the planned watch tonight was only to gather information. They didn't have much to go on. Bodies had been appearing all over Gotham with odd skull symbols burned into their chests and deep scratches that resembled claw marks. The coroner had established the cause of death of the victims as drowning, but they had all been found far from large bodies of water. The police force was stumped and their lead detectives had come up empty handed.

Batman had received a strange tip from one of their less-trusted informants, but it was substantial enough to check out. The snitch had said the group had weekly meetings at a mechanic's body shop in one of the dingier parts of Gotham. Investigations of the place turned up nothing, and there was only so much the vigilantes could do without hard evidence. Unfortunately, their informant hadn't said what day or time the meetings were, so Batman and Robin's investigation had ground to a halt until one of the stakeouts could prove fruitful.

Damian pulled his hood further over his head, trying to protect what dry body parts he had left. Of course it had to be freezing and raining the night it was Robin's job to stake out the place. Grayson was busy patrolling other parts of the city, something he wouldn't let Robin do alone. Damian was under strict orders to monitor but not engage, which he thought was utterly ridiculous. He didn't understand why Grayson had never trusted his fighting abilities. He had grown up an assassin, gone through all the necessary Robin training, was more than qualified for the position, and yet was still stuck on the sidelines, _observing_ , in the pouring rain. It was enough to make anyone crazy.

A streetlight flickered on the sidewalk below Robin's position on the roof, showing nothing but wet newspapers and other trash scattered around the street. There was a sudden movement in the darkness and Damian tensed, then relaxed, even more frustrated when he saw that it was only a big rat. There had been nothing but rats and the occasional drunk prostitute for the four straight hours he had been sitting there. As usual, the stakeout would be a complete waste of time, where Robin could have been much more useful elsewhere.

Robin's communicator fizzled to life: " _-obin come in."_

"It's about damn time," he muttered under his breath. "Receiving," he said into his com.

" _Anything yet?"_

"Nothing of interest has moved for four hours. I believe we are wasting our time, the informant was obviously wrong about-"

Suddenly there was a loud gunshot that came from the street, followed by a woman screaming. The door to the body shop was thrown open and several people came sprinting out as though their life depended on how fast they ran. One man ducked behind a blue mail collection box for cover but was shot in the head seconds later by a man in a green ski mask that had walked out of the building, grinning evilly.

Batman crackled over the com again. " _Robin? What's going on? Was that a gun?"_

Damian smirked. Finally, he could prove his skills to Grayson, the stupid fool. Never again would he doubt Robin's abilities. "It seems our information was right all along. Engaging."

" _Wait, Robin-"_ Too late. Damian had switched off his com and jumped off the building, fists raised.

 **Meanwhile, on the other side of town…**

Batman switched off his com angrily and knocked out one of the petty thieves he'd been tying up. "Shit."

He knew Damian was frustrated with his lack of action and that he was itching for a fight. It was a mistake sending him to watch one of the more dangerous drug groups they'd ever dealt with. Looking back, Dick knew he should've just let the kid stop a couple minor robberies and sent him home early for the night. He exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair.

The stress of taking over Bruce's position was slowly taking its toll. As Nightwing in Blüdhaven he had enough of a difficult time functioning; working all day and patrolling all night. As Batman it was different, there was more of a precedent, more expectations. People expected him to be God. When he was Nightwing, Dick had no problems joking around and even getting McDonalds every once in a while in costume, still kicking ass of course. It was hard, but it worked.

Being Batman wasn't working.

Still, he put on a smile and a front for Damian. The kid needed, _thrived,_ on order and consistency, and damn it if it killed him, Dick would give him that.

Batman tapped his com twice as he slowly stood up, wincing internally as he massaged his strained left calf muscle through the thick Kevlar. "Gordon," he growled, Batman's deep voice low in his throat, "Three more at the corner of Bidwell and Church."

 _"My God, are you even human? Are you trying for a record tonight?"_

"No. Batman out." He raised his hand to his ear, about to disconnect his com, when Gordon interrupted.

" _Wait a minute, there's a hostage situation at Stevenson Bank. My men are about 10 minutes out, they were in the middle of something, can you-"_

"No. Handle it. I have a situation." Batman ended the call forcefully, shaking his head at the incompetence of the GCPD. Dick always tried to give them the benefit of the doubt, but wearing the cowl, he could now understand Bruce's complete lack of patience with everyone except Gordon. It wasn't like the Blüdhaven Police Department was any better, but Dick liked to think that his being there did some good in reducing laziness and corruption.

As cold blooded as he may have seemed to Gordon, Dick was still the same person he'd always been, so he couldn't in good conscience leave the hostage situation the way it was. He was worried about Damian, but knew Robin could hold his own, at least for a few extra minutes.

Batman shot a grapple line at the corner of the nearest building and swung off into the night. First on the list was to put a stop to some unfortunate bank robber.

Then to beat the crap out of whatever idiot criminal had decided to mess with his headstrong little brother.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm back! I should be getting chapters out a little faster after this one. My winter break starts tomorrow after my calculus final (bleh.)

This chapter focuses on Damian and his current predicament. We'll see Dick next time, promise. Enjoy!

(P.S. please please review and let me know what you think!)

Warnings: Language, violence

Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the characters, yada yada yada.

* * *

Robin leapt into battle, his first strike aimed for the green-masked man holding the machine gun. His foot hit Green Mask's stomach and he rode the man to the ground, using him to break his own fall. The criminal dropped his gun, and Robin quickly kicked it away, sending it skittering across the street. He approached the rest of the drug smugglers with a dangerous glint in his eyes and cracked his knuckles slowly, one by one.

Robin smirked. "I suppose you all have heard of me?"

The men looked at Robin as a cat would look at a mouse, predators stalking prey.

"Yeah," one of them shouted, "You're the Bat's brat!" The entire group laughed, but not with joy. The sinister look on their faces said it all.

"You lookin' for trouble short stack? Cause ya found it." The leader of the group had gotten to his feet behind Robin, looking a little unhappy with being shown up in front of his men. "Daddy's not here to save you now."

Robin grinned meanly. "Oh really? I would like to see you simpletons attempt to hurt me." He moved into a fighting stance, knees bent and fists raised.

One man could take Robin's arrogant smirk no longer and he charged with a roar. With no difficulty, Robin avoided the man's punch by ducking under it, then swept the thug's feet out from under him. He fell on his face and Robin delivered a knockout blow to his head, efficiently incapacitating him.

"Alright," he yelled confidently, turning back to the group, "Who's next?"

The men had formed a circle around Robin while he was busy with their comrade, cutting off easy escape routes. If they weren't happy before, they definitely weren't happy now. Green Mask looked strangely excited, which wasn't a good sign.

"You gotta learn some smarts, little man." The circle began to close in on the young vigilante, the thugs slowly creeping closer to Robin. He was completely outnumbered.

Robin, noticing his increasingly complicated predicament, charged the line of men near the mechanic's shop entrance. He darted left through a larger space left by two of them and sprinted into the building. Robin slammed the door and quickly pushed the receptionist desk in front of it, if only to buy a little time, then turned and took in the room to look for an optimal ambush position.

He ran past the front counter and through another set of doors into a large garage. The walls were bullet-hole ridden from the earlier shootout and blood was splattered everywhere like a morbid modern art exhibit. It was filled to the brim with car parts and large wooden barrels, with a space in the center large enough for a rickety table and chairs that looked as though they would fall apart with a touch. The table was covered in small plastic Ziploc bags filled with an orange powdery substance. A couple had been knocked over and covered the table in what looked like orange sand.

The hideout had drugs, it had blood, so it wouldn't have been complete without corpses. One dead body lay slumped over the table, another splayed out in the direction of the door.

Robin looked to the rafters for a hiding spot but the roof was cheap and made of tented sheet metal and wooden beams that looked like they wouldn't support anything larger than a mouse. His eyes darted around the room, his mind coming up with ideas and then just as quickly dismissing them.

Just then there was a series of loud ' _BANG's_ that came from the door. The men pounded away with their fists, bats, and anything else they could get their hands on, and Damian knew it was only a matter of time before one of them figured out another way in.

 _Think you idiot, what would Grayson do?_ Dick Grayson, among other things, was a master contortionist. He had taught Damian a few things in the few months of their partnership, and tonight Robin called that knowledge into play.

He removed the lid of a nearby barrel and peered into the top, and finding it empty, folded his limbs carefully inside. Luckily the lid of the barrel had a handle on top with rope that was threaded through holes and knotted on the other side. Robin grabbed the knots of the handle to lower the lid back on top from the inside and the darkness of the dimly lit building became almost complete, save for a small crack that allowed Robin a sliver sized view of the center of the room that held the wooden table and chairs.

Right on cue, Robin could hear the men come in the back entrance of the shop. _It took those morons three minutes to realize they could enter the rear door. How have they managed to evade us for so long?_

He stayed silent, his muscles straining to stay in their unnatural folded form. Damian concentrated on his breathing to stay in an alert, meditative state as he waited to make his move. Peering through his minuscule peek-hole, Damian could see big burly men searching the room for any sign of a small masked hero.

In the back of his mind, Damian knew he should call for backup. He knew he was outnumbered, his chances of getting out unscathed dwindling by the minute, but his pride was too strong. _I'm going to show Grayson I can handle it. I am Damian Wayne al Ghul, and I can do anything._

"He ain't here boss!" one of the men yelled.

Robin watched as Green Mask stalked over to the thug who had spoken, collared him around the neck and slammed him against the wall. The unfortunate criminal gasped for air and his buddies looked slightly afraid. "Keep lookin' you idiots, he can't just disappear! Find him, or all of ya get introduced to the Big Boss on a plate!" He threw the man down and stalked away. The thugs scattered, their search becoming more frantic.

A barrel right next to Robin's was kicked over suddenly. He saw a pair of legs move in front of the barrel crack, obscuring his view. Robin tensed, preparing to attack should the need arise. One leg swung back, preparing to kick over his barrel, then abruptly stopped. Inexplicably, the thug turned around moved out of Robin's line of sight.

 _That was much too close for comfo-_

 **WHAM!** Robin felt a jolt, as if he was punched by Superman, and went airborn. The barrel hit a wall and exploded with Robin still in it. He hit the wall hard, stunned, and slid to the floor.

"Found you." A deep voice growled.

Robin looked up through blurred vision, making out a large, muscular shape in the distance.

The shape moved closer and slowly grinned, showing his rows of razor-sharp canines. "I've waited a long time to meet you birdie.

"Are you as weak as your predecessors?" he asked wickedly, advancing on Robin, his massive tail swishing side to side in anticipation.

The only villain in Gotham with huge teeth and a tail was…

 _Killer Croc._

Robin fought for consciousness, trying desperately to get his feet underneath him. _Get up you weakling! MOVE, damn it!_

Croc moved in front of Robin and crouched down to look him in the eye. "Sorry birdie, I guess that was a dumb question. Ready for some fun?"

The best Robin could do was glare.

Croc drew back his scaly fist, "Night night birdie."

 _Batman, you can save me now._

And Damian knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3

Oh my goodness. I am so sorry. I went back to work over break and it hit me like a ton of bricks, to say the least. This is still sorta on time, it's only about an hour and 30 minutes late (my time, at least.) Thank you guys so much for reading and checking in! Your positive reviews and comments are the reason I write. Also don't be afraid to drop me some constructive criticism! I'm trying to make my writing better and more enjoyable to read. Anyway, again, thanks so much for reading and I'll throw in one final plea for reviews/favorites/follows/anything really at this point! (Please :))

Warnings: Violence, some language

* * *

 **Stevenson Bank**

When Batman arrived at the scene, he was quick to notice the strange quietness of the usually bustling bank. Needing to get closer, Batman silently dropped down from his perch on the roof to the sidewalk and noiselessly crept through the door. He could see at least four civilians pressed up against the wall of the bank, quivering, with their hands on their heads.

There was commotion near the vault and Batman crept over to investigate.

"All right man, how much cash you got in there?" A stout, stubbly bank robber waved his pistol in the air, then pointed it at the terrified teller. "I ain't leaving 'till you gimme all o' it!"

Batman smirked. It was obvious that the amateur knew nothing about handling a gun, much less robbing a bank. It was a wonder he had gotten this far. This was going to be a piece of cake.

In the back of his mind, he wondered how Damian was faring. He had heard the gunshot over Robin's communicator and knew that couldn't mean anything good. Knowing Gotham though, gunshots were a regular occurrence, and not necessarily demonstrative of fatal danger. It could've just been a warning shot, or an accidental discharge. Either way, Dick knew if he and Damian's relationship was to progress, he needed to start trusting the kid. Damian said he could handle the situation, and with the crazy amount of training he went through as a kid, Dick was inclined to believe him. He pushed thoughts of Damian from his mind to concentrate on the scene at hand. There were innocent civilians in danger and no one was getting hurt tonight on his watch.

The bank robber had gotten closer to the teller, leaning in to press the gun to his forehead. "I _said_ I want _all that money."_ He bared his teeth in a feral smile, cocking the gun as he did so. "And I want it RIGHT NOW."

Batman had had enough. "Step away and drop the gun."

He stayed in the shadows and as his voice echoed throughout the giant building, the robber laughed.

"Oh yeah? You gonna make me?" The robber kept his gun on the poor man's forehead, and looked in Batman's direction, not yet able to make him out in the dark corner.

He looked much too calm for one man with one gun and hardly any brains. There had to be something else going on here. To stand there and analyze the situation would not only exacerbate the situation, but would also lose him precious time in getting the civilians to safety and checking on Robin. Dick decided he was being too paranoid. _Bruce_ has _rubbed off on me._

In quick succession, Batman flicked a batarang that hit the robber's hand that held the gun and threw a weighted cord at his legs. The batarang knocked the gun from his grip and sent it clattering to the floor, while the cord ensnared his ankles. The top-heavy criminal toppled forward and hit the tile floor hard.

The man he had been holding prisoner ran for his life to a safe spot behind a heavy oak desk.

The robber groaned from the floor, "Ugh... why ya gotta do me like that? An' I was so nice to ya. Didn't try ta hurt you or nothing." He brought his fingers to his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. "What an idiot. It was nice knowing ya."

At the whistle, the door to the bank slowly crept open. Batman moved from his position in the corner to the center of the bank floor, tensed and ready. The door slowly opened all the way, and stopped. No one breathed. They waited for a minute, and...

Nothing showed.

Batman's face turned into a menacing smile as he turned to the unfortunate robber. "Sorry. No back-up for you today."

The criminal started to sweat, his face turning red. "Where's he? 'E told me they'd be here! That lying son of a b-"

Faster than Batman could react, a small shape flew through the open bank door. It flew to the right and made a complete circle around the building, then banked left and headed straight for the dark vigilante's face.

Batman quickly dove beneath a teller desk, not a moment too soon as the bird-like animal's claws scraped deep into the top of the wood.

It looked like a falcon, if a falcon was made of steel and had ruby red eyes that glowed. The bird flew up to the ceiling again and circled then dove to make another pass.

Batman threw up his gauntleted arm and sparks flew as the two metals clashed. He threw his arm to the right to throw the bird off and with his other hand shot his taser towards the weird steel animal, trying to short circuit the bird's system.

The two wires from the taser bounced harmlessly off its wings, only making it more angry. It swooped down with a screech and managed to score its claws across Batman's left bicep.

Dick's eyes widened beneath the cowl at the sudden onslaught of pain from the slashes. It definitely wasn't normal pain. His entire arm felt as though it was melting. It hung limply from his shoulder, not responding to muscle cues. _Ok, claws are definitely poisoned. Good to know._

Dick blocked out the pain. There was a fight to finish. _Ok, focus. What can you do to disable the thing?_

As the bird reset itself for another pass, Dick ran through ideas. He quickly eliminated catching it and manually dismantling it, he wouldn't be able to get close enough to try. _Wait, birds, flying, wings. Take out the wings, take out the bird!_

As the mechanical raptor shot towards him, Batman grabbed a metal chair near the overturned desk with his good right arm and swung it around to meet the bird in its flight path. It wasn't enough to shut it down, but it was enough to crunch one of its wings in, making it impossible to fly. Batman brought the chair down on it again, until the red glow went out of its eyes.

As Batman and the bird were facing off, the bank robber had untangled his legs from the cord and was trying to sneak towards the door. He hadn't gotten far, as the Gotham Police force had finally arrived to take care of the hostage situation.

Red and blue lights flashed in the windows of the bank and the hostages ran to safety. Batman crouched down and scooped what remained of the smoking pile of metal into a evidence bag. He tucked it away in his utility belt and grabbed a roll of black gauze that matched his armor and an antidote for common poisons. Dick applied the antidote cream and wrapped his injury in gauze. His arm had started to go numb and he felt more of a general ache than the acute high level of pain the scratches had felt like before.

Dick rolled his shoulder, double checked his wrapping, and tapped his communicator on, resolving to worry about the injury later. There were far more important things that came first.

"Robin, do you copy?"

Silence.

"Robin I'm serious, where are you? What happened?"

"...Robin? Robin?!"

 **An unknown warehouse somewhere in Gotham...**

Robin's communicator squawked from its place on the floor, in a pile with his utility belt, steel toed boots, cape, and various other previously hidden weapons. Batman's voice came through, heavily laden with worry. Nothing moved. When the communications stopped, the gadget started to beep consistently as Batman tried to track his missing partner.

All of the noise went unnoticed by its rightful owner, who was passed out in a small cell fit into the corner of the desolate warehouse. Blood slowly trickled down his nose and dripped onto the concrete, making a small red pool.

The communicator beeped loudly, blood dripped softly, and a young boy took slow, shallow breaths as he slowly regained consciousness in a dark warehouse in Gotham City.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Heh...sorry. Things have been hectic with the holidays and I could give you a thousand excuses but to get to the point: sorry. Things happen, and it's a couple of days late, but still read and review, please? Let me know how you think it's going! Also, if you haven't already, please check out "A Clayface Christmas"! It's one of my favorite stories that I've written and if you like this story, there's a good chance you'll like that one too. Thanks again guys, and please review!

Warnings: language

* * *

The Batplane soared through the cold night air as fast as it could go. Its owner was pushing it to the limit, desperately trying to reach his location as fast as humanly possible.

Batman checked the map for the thousandth time since he began his rescue mission, but the blinking red dot had still yet to move, and the jet symbol moving towards it seemed much too slow. The light flashed over and over directly on _Industrial District Warehouse 12_ tauntingly, driving Batman crazy.

Dick shook his head to clear it. _I have to focus. Concentrate._

He flipped on the radio and called the only person who could give him the support he needed to carry out his mission.

"Alfred, come in. This is an emergency." Dick set the Batplane to autopilot to focus on relaying his information. "Robin is missing."

The butler's concerned voice crackled through the radio, "Do you believe he's just run off again, sir?"

"At first I thought maybe, but he won't answer my communicator, his tracker isn't moving, and I have this really, really bad feeling in my gut. I think something is seriously wrong this time. I don't know what to do! I mean the last time I heard from him I heard a gunshot but he said it was fine so I went off to handle a robbery and that didn't go very well and then I went to look for him and I called him four times and he didn't answer and-"

"Ahem." Alfred cleared his throat on the other side of the radio. "The first step in saving Master Robin will be to calm yourself, Master Batman. "

"Sorry," Dick muttered. "B was always so much better at this. He would've rescued the kid, decimated the entire drug cartel, and saved half the city by now."

Dick sighed. "Maybe agreeing to take his place was a mistake. I was never cut out to be Batman anyway."

"Pardon my language, but that is the most utterly idiotic damned thing I have ever heard you say."

Dick could practically see the old butler rolling up his sleeves in preparation for a lecture.

"Why must you constantly doubt your abilities? No matter what you may believe, you _are_ an effective Batman. You make a difference in Gotham citizen's lives every single night and I cannot believe you are unable to see that. "

Alfred was right, as usual. Dick had a hard time stepping out from his surrogate father's shadow, even going so far as creating his own hero to try and get away from the family legacy. He had never wanted to be Batman.

As much as he didn't want Bruce's cowl, Dick was mature enough to know it was necessary. The city needed protection and there was Damian to think about. A regular childhood would have never satisfied him, and he would probably have gotten into even more trouble on his own.

Dick knew all this, knew that he was helping, knew that he mattered, but he still needed a reminder from Alfred every once in a while.

The Batplane computer beeped, letting Batman know he was close to arriving at his destination.

"Thanks for the pep talk Alfred. I'm going to get him back," Dick announced with steely determination, "And then he's getting grounded for a year."

* * *

Damian woke slowly, eyes blinking rapidly as he adjusted to the darkness of his cell.

 _Where am I?_

The place was desolate and abandoned. Looking through the cell bars, Damian could just make out some empty boxes and trash strewn about on the hard concrete floor. There were no windows to be seen, and he couldn't find a door anywhere nearby.

He shifted focus from his location to himself, analyzing and categorizing injuries based on likelihood of impediment to Robin's escape. He swiped two fingers underneath his nose and they came away covered in blood. His nose wasn't in too bad shape, though a head injury was a given. Damian felt like his brain was attempting to burst from his skull. The concussion that came with it would interfere with his ability to think and problem solve, and it might affect his balance and vision.

Damian couldn't very well check his vision at the moment, so he attempted to stand and test his balance.

The world tilted sideways and Damian's hand caught the wall for balance as he tried to stabilize himself. _Pull yourself together. You aren't weak like Grayson thinks you are. Get yourself out of this mess and show him what you can do._

Damian closed his eyes for a moment, trying to fix his bruised brain.

He opened them a second later and the world was oriented correctly. Damian took his hand off the wall, then scoured his confined space for a way out.

The cell was almost exactly one square meter, not leaving much space for its occupant. It was built into the concrete wall of the warehouse and the metal looked like it had seen better days. For this reason, Damian started by examining the bars to see if any of them would budge. He rattled and pushed on all the bars but none of them showed any give. Trying anything with more force would create a good deal of noise and Damian didn't want to let his captors know he was awake and coherent.

Frustrated, Damian turned to the concrete wall.

Not one crack or hole to exploit.

Last, he turned to the floor. The dusty corners held nothing, as did the center of the floor.

There was nothing left to do but to try and kick the bars down. If he succeeded, Damian calculated that he could escape or at least hide in the time that it took for the captors to enter this section of the warehouse.

He found the weakest looking point in the old metal bars, paused to place his kick, and hit the bars as hard as he could.

 _'CLANG'_

The bars gave and the entire side of the cage came crashing down onto the concrete. The sound was loud enough to wake the dead, and Robin didn't stick around long enough to see who it attracted.

He used a few precious seconds to grab his gear from the nearby table, then fled to the darker side of the warehouse, hoping to buy himself some time should Croc or some of his minions show up. One hand to his aching head and the other holding his Robin gear, he ran, looking for an exit.

A door came in to view up ahead. Robin sprinted to it, threw it open, and looked straight into the face of Killer Croc.

* * *

Dick set the Batplane down quietly a few hundred yards from his destination. He didn't want to attract the bad guys attention and make this rescue any harder than it already was.

Batman didn't know where Robin was exactly and he didn't know what he was up against. There was probably a connection between the drug cartel and Robin's abduction but he didn't know for sure, and he didn't have much information about the group. _That's why Robin was on observation in the first place! If the kid could just follow an order every once in a while it would make my job so much easier._

 _Did I just sound exactly like Bruce?_

Batman snuck through the shrubs that surrounded the group of warehouses and stealthily approached number 12. There was a door in the back that looked promising and Batman moved silently towards it. He was a couple yards away when there was movement from around the corner. Batman darted behind a tree and watched from the shadows.

There was a low pitched man's voice first that sounded vaguely like one of the cartel suspects, "We got 'im Boss, just like I told ya we would!"

Then Batman heard Croc's gravelly response, " _You_ didn't get him, _I_ got him. And it ain't gonna matter soon, cause all he'll be is dead meat." The two criminals laughed and Croc reached out to open the door, but before he could do so, it opened from the inside.

Robin stood there, blood trailing from his nose, a hand on his head, and a scowl on his face.

"You made a colossal mistake. Prepare to pay for it."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: To make up for this being late again, this chapter is much longer than the others. I originally planned on this story only being five chapters, but it's looking more like six or seven, so stay tuned. This ride isn't over just yet! Also be on the lookout for more prompt completions from my fic "Batman Shorts" and other stories as I finish up this one. Enjoy, and please review to let me know what you think!**

* * *

The only thing about hired criminal muscle is that the cheap ones usually aren't too bright. That's why when the crook standing by Killer Croc charged Robin with naught but his fists, no one was surprised.

They were, however, surprised when Batman swung in to intercept him.

Batman had shot his grapple at the opposite corner of the warehouse and swung feet first into Croc's minion, taking him out in a single swift blow. After making sure he was truly unconscious, Batman looked up just as Croc was taking a swing at his head.

Ducking quickly, Batman dodged and delivered a side kick to Croc's knee that would have been enough to dislocate a regular person's kneecap, but only further angered the massive monster.

Dick concentrated on using his legs instead of his arms for attacks. His left arm still burned from the claw marks he had acquired earlier, reminding him of his injury. While he had treated it with what he carried with him in the field, the poison was stronger than the antidote and it needed to be looked at and identified by Alfred as soon as possible. Dick's field dressing still held strong though, and there was nothing more he could do about it at the moment.

Croc growled and made a grab for Batman but missed as Dick jumped backwards and threw two explosive batarangs to push Croc away. His left arm burned with the strain but his aim was true. The batarangs exploded on Croc's chest, pushing him back a few feet. Dick took the few seconds of time the batarangs gave him to rapidly glance at Robin to see why he hadn't yet joined the fight. It was odd for Damian not to leap right into a violent encounter.

Damian leaned against the warehouse door frame, letting Dick know immediately something wasn't right. He would never publicly display weakness, especially not while in costume. His partner looked unwell. His face was pale and his center of gravity was off. _Judging by the blood on his face and his unsteady demeanor, I'm guessing concussion. A nasty one._

Dick refocused on the fight, wanting to take down Croc before Robin jumped in the battle and hurt himself any worse.

Robin reacted to Batman's sudden entrance slowly, needing a minute to get his bearings and process what just happened. _This head injury may be more serious than I originally believed it to be. Even so, I am alive, awake, and thus able to fight._

This was one thing Talia had taught him over their few years together. Assassins employed by Ras al Ghul were nearly impossible to deter through physical injury. Some went so far as to take drugs that would entirely eliminate pain all together, though they often died quickly from unnoticed fatal wounds.

Since Damian was once supposed to inherit The League of Assassins, he was expected to not only match those assassins employed, but far exceed them. A concussion was nothing compared to the severity of injuries he had sustained during his training with his grandfather.

 _I have faced much worse and succeeded. It is time to prove I am worthy of the Robin mantle._

With that final thought he shook off the fogginess of his brain as much as he could and quickly whipped on his utility belt. Looking up to see the human criminal knocked out and Batman engaging Croc, Damian took the time to lace up his boots and reattach his cape before reassessing the situation.

Batman had just landed several blows to Croc's midsection before being swept away by a huge green tail.

The blow threw Batman several feet backwards but he managed to land on his feet, poised for a second attack.

Before he could counter, Robin entered the fray.

Batman's brightly colored partner shot his electric taser at Croc to throw him off balance, then followed with two small explosive grenades that sent him flying into a large tree. The tree shook from the force, sending pine needles raining down on the monster.

Croc stood and shook off the needles, snarling, "You've become a very annoying thorn in my side. Neither of you weaklings are leaving here in one piece."

Approaching Robin's position, Batman stood meaningfully next to his protégé. "Stand down, Robin," he muttered under his breath. "You've caused enough trouble tonight."

"I can handle this perfectly fine on my own. I don't need some useless circus clown to interfere."

Dick groaned inwardly. _Not exactly the '_ of course Batman!' _I was looking for._

"Look out!" Batman dove into Robin, knocking him down and inches away from the sharp talons that just barely ruffled his hair.

Dick rapidly stood and craned his head to identify their new enemy. _Looks like a falcon, shiny, red eyes..._

Batman's bird friend was back, repaired and looking brand new.

 _Could this night get any worse?_

Robin looked up too, squinting at the small flying object. The darkness outside made it hard to get a clear view, but it was obviously not friendly.

Missing its target though it did, the robot bird had done its job as a distraction. Croc took advantage of Batman and Robin's momentary lapse in attention and launched himself towards them, swinging his meaty fists at the same time and connecting with Batman's head and Robin's midsection.

Batman was unconscious before he hit the ground.

There was an audible squelch as Croc's fist hit Damian's stomach, the impact sending him reeling backwards. His insides turned to liquid fire as breathing suddenly became increasingly more difficult. He bent over in an attempt to relieve some pain, but the motion only aggravated the area further.

His flexible Robin armor wasn't made to withstand such high velocity attacks and couldn't entirely protect him from injury. However, if Damian had been without his armor, he would have been dead on the spot.

Damian rasped as he tried to breathe, falling to his knees as the pain took hold. He forced himself to concentrate on something else, anything else. Croc was grinning triumphantly a few feet away. He saw Batman lying beside him, knocked out cold.

Seeing his older brother lying helpless on the ground lit a new flame in Damian. There was no way Croc would get away with this. Justice _would_ prevail.

With difficulty, Robin stood again, an arm wrapped around his ribs, head throbbing, but with a terrifyingly determined expression on his face.

He needed a plan.

Brute force wasn't working. Croc had too much strength to overpower with just fists. Explosives were slowing him down, but not effectively taking him out. _I need to think bigger. Bigger...bombs?_

 _The plane._

Damian's communicator had given off a series of beeps when Dick had landed the plane outside the warehouse earlier, letting him know that it was there if needed.

Keeping an eye on Croc, Robin contacted the Batcave. "Pennyworth," he whispered with strain in his voice, "I need large explosives from the plane centered on Warehouse 12. ASAP."

 _"Of course sir, release time about five minutes."_

"Understood." _I just need to keep Croc busy for five minutes. This will work. It has to._

It was then Damian noticed another shadow that had appeared, hiding behind Croc. It was short and stubby, with an umbrella and a noticeably large hook nose... _Penguin._

Penguin was gripping what looked like a video game controller and looking up at the sky. It didn't take a genius to figure it out.

A robot bird, a controller, and Penguin. What Damian didn't understand was the odd team up with Killer Croc. The two didn't typically work together unless they had to.

Penguin cackled loudly as he pulled the trigger on his controller down and the bird dive-bombed Robin without warning.

Just as the bird was descending, Robin threw a batarang that flew faster than the bird and embedded itself in Penguin's controller. The metallic falcon fell out of the air and hit the ground, just barely missing Robin's head.

Penguin looked in disbelief at the smoking controls in his hand. "Why do you always have to ruin my perfect plans, eh? You stupid, stupid birdy!" Penguin stomped away into the trees, seemingly abandoning Killer Croc.

 _"Three minutes, Master Robin."_

Robin looked up with a dangerous glare on his face. "Enough with the frivolous criminals, Croc. You've constantly surrounded yourself with minions, are you too scared to take me on yourself?" His voice still rasped, but Damian strengthened it as best he could to hide his weakness. Lava still burned a hole in his chest, but the adrenaline pumping through Robin's veins helped alleviate some of the pain.

"You are nothing to me, little bird. I could crush you as easily as a grape."

 _"Two minutes."_

"Really? Show me." Robin slowly backed up towards the warehouse where he had originally been imprisoned, taunting Croc as he went. "You are nothing but a hideous lump of failed crossbreeding, an imbecilic insult to reptiles!"

 _"One minute. Do make sure you stay out of the blast radius, Master Robin."_

Croc took the bait. "I'll show you!" he growled as he barreled towards Robin. The smaller figure sidestepped, and Croc's momentum continue to propel him forewords, his head going straight through the warehouse door.

Damian's pain returned with renewed vigor. It was almost completely incapacitating this time, though Damian managed to run from the building to where Batman still lay, while Croc tried to free his head from the door. "...now..." he managed to mutter into his com, and the warehouse exploded.

* * *

 **A/N #2: In one of the Batman and Robin comic volumes, Alfred controls the Batplane remotely to take out the criminal Nobody, shooting him with rubber bullets so that Bruce and Damian can escape. I don't remember exactly which one it is, but if you're curious, it's on the internet somewhere.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** And we're back! Thanks for sticking with me. Classes have started again, unfortunately, which means my updates will be noticeably slower. Fear not, I will always have an estimated update date on my profile for all in progress stories so that you know when to check back. I might not always hit that date exactly on the mark, but I'll hopefully always be somewhat near it. There should be one more chapter here (and possibly an epilogue but we'll see how things go) that I will work hard to update within a week.

As always, your support and feedback is loved and appreciated. It's why I write! Leave a review and let me know how I'm doing with things. I love you guys :)

 **Warnings:** violence, language

* * *

Dick's consciousness stirred within the deep blackness that had enveloped him. He felt a strange sense of urgency, but wasn't willing to awaken from his peaceful dwelling just yet.

Images flashed by in his mind, dim at first, but gaining distinction quickly.

He saw his parents, smiling and reaching towards him, a memory of his first experimental trapeze flight. Then there was his first day at the manor, Bruce and Alfred standing by the door beckoning him inside. Robin's first patrol was next, and Dick could still feel the overwhelming joy that he had that day...

The images continued chronologically through major events in Dick's life, including meeting Jason, the big fight with Bruce, getting a job with the Blüdhaven PD, helping Tim through his parents' death, and his first encounter with Damian.

 _Am I dying? Doesn't your life flash before your eyes when you're almost dead?_

Dick pondered this a moment.

He didn't have to think long before feeling began to return to his limbs and his mind began to wake up, answering his question. Unfortunately, this wasn't a pleasant sensation.

His whole body ached something awful, it felt like he'd been run over by an 18-wheeler at least three times. His left bicep sparked with hot pain, searing a line through his skin where poisonous claws had scored it hours before.

None of these injuries compared to his head. There was a constant throb so large Dick swore it was audible to others. His whole brain felt hot and heavy, like he had a high fever. Coupled with the concussion Dick knew he had, it was enough to make anyone wish for blissful unconsciousness.

As his body began to process sensation, he felt something wet drip rhythmically on his face. For a moment he wondered what it was, then he pushed it to the bottom of his to-do list in light of more important items.

Faintly, he could hear someone saying something unintelligible. As he moved slowly back into the real world, the voice got louder.

"...tman..."

Dick shifted slightly away from the noise. _Just leave me alone._

"...can't die now... work to do..." The voice became louder, more insistent.

"...ake up!" Dick cracked open an eyelid and light came flooding through, causing him to quickly shut it again.

"Damn it, quit fucking around! I don't know how much time we have left before-"

"Dami?" Dick whispered, finally matching the obscure voice to a known person. His voice was barely audible over...the torrents of rain?

Dick finally forced his eyes open and processed his surroundings. Gray clouds overhead obscured the sun and released heavy droplets that saturated the ground around him.

A dark-haired head came into focus, temporarily blocking Dick's view of the clouds and the water that fell from them. Blood dripped from the Damian's nose, landing on Dick's face and combining with the water droplets already there.

Damian rubbed the blood away from under his nose and looked fiercely at the dark cowl beneath him . "Batman. I need you awake and coherent. Can you hear me?"

Dick nodded slightly, but that was enough to set off the painful throbbing in his head again. He screwed up his eyes in discomfort and pushed his fist against his forehead, trying desperately to make the pounding stop. "Robin," he ground out, "Current...mission debrief. I can't remember..."

A hint of concern entered Damian's eyes. "Not now. We have to get somewhere safe. Croc was caught in an explosion, but I cannot estimate how long it will keep him down. We need to move."

Dick's brain began to function faster as he realized something he hadn't noticed before. "Wait...why didn't you just move me to a safe location? You're more than strong enough."

"I said, _not now._ I can answer your questions later, _after_ we get the hell out of here. Besides,I can't move you by myself, nor..." he seemed to have difficulty with the next few words, "...nor do I think I can walk unassisted at this present moment in time."

At this, Dick hurriedly pushed himself up to one elbow, ignoring his injuries for the time being.

"What?!"

Damian deftly moved his head out of the way as his brother's shot up in concern. "You do not need to bother yourself with that now. We need to get to the plane as soon as possible."

Dick looked, really looked, at Robin and finally noticed the way he was clutching his side, his grip looked as if he was holding his insides together with just that one hand.

Suddenly there was a violent cough that ripped itself from Damian. He turned his head to the side and spit out a globule of blood and shakily tried to rise.

He got to one knee before inhaling unexpectedly with a heavy rasp and coughing loudly into his hand. It came away bloody.

With renewed vigor, Dick struggled to his feet, concussion be damned. He wrapped his good arm around his protégé and hoisted him upwards, nearly losing his balance in the process. Swaying, Dick concentrated on the little hand that pressed against the small of his back, reminding himself of why he had to move.

"Where's th' plane?" Dick's speech became slightly slurred, though whether it was due to the concussion or the fever, he wasn't sure.

Damian nodded at a giant black jet that sat just feet from the two, keeping his hand in a death grip around his ribs.

Dick could have smacked himself. _How did I not notice that?_

Damian's breathing was getting worse by the minute. Noticing this, Dick set his resolve and took one step in the direction Damian had indicated.

 _"Master Batman, Master Robin,"_ Alfred's voice came directly through both Dick and Damian's communicators that had miraculously survived the battle. _"You are to come straight home in that plane, no dillydallying, crime-fighting, nor stops to debrief Mr. Gordon will be allowed. Am I understood?"_

Dick started to respond, "Yeah but Alf I dunno wha' even happen-"

Then Damian interrupted him, "Yes, yes Pennyworth. We will arrive soon." Damian disconnected the communication, only to double over the next second causing Dick to almost lose his grip.

"Whoa there lil man-"

"We...have to...get to the plane," Damian forced out, " _Now._ "

"Ok, ok.."

Together, Batman and Robin covered the last couple feet to get to the plane. The door was already open so, leaning on each other for support, they made it inside.

Dick slammed his hand against the button that closed the hatchet and both sighed with relief.

Not a moment too soon, as a large, angry growl thundered through the plane.

"Plane...autopilot. Destination...GCPD." With the directions given and the plane beginning to set course, Damian leaned his head up against the wall and closed his eyes for a minute.

Dick, from his place on the floor looked over, confused, after Damian had set the autopilot. "I thought we were going back to the mansion?"

"Tt. Those monsters are still out there tonight and it is our job to make sure they can't hurt anyone else." Damian pulled out the first aid kit and began to tightly bandage his ribs, stabilizing them and enabling movement without as much pain. He tossed Dick pain medication for his head just as his older brother started to protest.

"But I don't even know what's going on!"

"I will inform you on the way, Grayson. Now shut up and take your medicine."

 **Undisclosed Location in Gotham**

Penguin was not having a good night.

It wasn't often he had one of the Bats in his possession and Croc had managed to mess it up entirely in a few short hours. Not only that, but now the woman he had conspired with wanted her money, and he had nothing to give her. Being a supervillain in Gotham wasn't easy.

When Penguin had gotten out of Arkham, he had promised himself this time it would be different. This time he would make a bird machine that could withstand the Bats and take over Gotham. This time he would become a millionaire. This time he would rule the world!

He had met up with his old buddy Killer Croc that had escaped too and they decided to work together. Croc had connections with an up-and-coming drug cartel, and both villains decided to take over to reestablish their positions in the Gotham underworld.

The woman running the cartel was known as only Miss B. She ran the group with an iron fist, not afraid to execute any naysayers or annoyances. She also owned the building the cartel did business out of: Bad Daddy's Mechanics. Miss B was a gifted mechanic and engineer, able to fix and build almost anything mechanical.

Penguin took advantage of her skills, promising to pay her double for the cartel if she created a bird-weapon for him to destroy the Bat. She had only grudgingly agreed, as money was tight and anything that might help take down the Batman was good for business.

Her mechanical bird was the best any Gotham villain had ever seen and Penguin was beyond thrilled with his new toy.

Together, Penguin, Miss B, and Killer Croc came up with a plan to capture Robin and lure Batman back to the scene to take both vigilantes down at once. Two birds with one stone.

Penguin created a diversion at a bank, plucking an inexperienced robber off the street at random and sending him to rob a bank that was far from Robin's location. He used the opportunity to show off his new bird, poison Batman, and distract him from saving his partner all at the same time.

Then their plan began to backfire. Robin escaped because of Croc's laziness and now both Batman and his partner were still on the loose, probably hunting down what remained of Penguin's moneymaking drug cartel. Adding to everything else that had happened that night, Croc had gotten himself blown up. The whole night was a disaster, and Penguin could only hope that the Bats were too injured to continue tonight.

Quickly gathering up his things and stuffing them in a suitcase, Penguin was on track to make a clean getaway. He had already sent the cash he had made for selling the remainder of the drugs ahead of him (on a plane to Aruba) and was almost on his way to the airport.

Almost. Until a very angry Miss B intercepted him.

"I want my money, and I want it now. I am not a patient woman, Penguin."

` "But you see, B, that I have neither Batman nor Robin in my possession at the current moment. So you haven't fulfilled our agreement and I won't pay you!"

"Just because both of you blockheads can't execute a plan correctly doesn't mean I have to pay for it. Give me my money or I'll take it from your cold, dead body."

"You wouldn't."

"Watch me." Miss B whipped out her pistol and pointed it directly at Penguin's head.

"Whoa whoa, now," Penguin slowly put his hands up and walked backwards. "Can't we at least be civil?"

"Not when you owe me 30 million dollars."

Penguin continued to back up. "Sweetheart, I don't have your money. What I do have is two very unhappy Bats on my tail and a plane to catch. Ta ta!" Penguin fell backwards through an open window and into the night.

Miss B ran up and looked outside and saw Penguin hanging from his umbrella, floating in the direction of the airport. She took several shots at him with her pistol but none of them hit their mark.

"Bah," she muttered to herself, "I should never have worked with those idiots in the first place. Now there's no one left for me to take my anger out on...except two vulnerable infuriating crime-fighters." She smiled wickedly, pulled out her phone, and began to make calls to every informant she had in town.

"Find me Batman and Robin. I want them dead."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Oh my goodness. College is crazy you guys. I'm so sorry this is (how many weeks now?) late. I've been working on it as much as I could but I also got a serious case of plot/writers block for a while. Anyway, excuses aside, this is the second-to-last chapter. For real this time. If you've hung in with me this far, _thank you._ It really does make my day when an email for a review pops up in my inbox (amidst all the ads from Target.) Those positive reviews are literally the most awesome thing ever. You guys rock my socks. Please let me know what you think of this chapter in the reviews! Love you guys!

Warnings: Language, light violence

* * *

The Batplane hummed softly as Damian finished tying off the new bandage around his brother's arm. The wound, while both cleaned and treated, was still puffy and bright red. Dick noticed Damian's solemn expression while treating it, and tried to draw his attention elsewhere.

"So, what exactly are we up against? Little pieces of tonight have been coming back to me, but I'm still having a hard time seeing the whole picture." Dick got up and walked over to a small compartment in the wall of the plane and opened it. He started browsing through its contents as he continued. "I know there was something about a drug cartel, and Croc and Penguin showed up, but other than that I'm lost." Dick grabbed two protein bars from the container and tossed one to Damian. "Eat that and fill me in."

Damian chucked the protein bar aside in disgust. "How can you eat this processed bar of sugar?"

"Dami..." Dick groaned. "We've been on patrol for six hours now. Your body is running on fumes and it needs fuel." He reopened the compartment and shuffled through it again. "I've got caramel, dark chocolate, peanut butter... and oh!" Dick held one out triumphantly. "Cookie dough! The best thing ever. Cookie dough ice cream, cookie dough Oreo's, _actual_ cookie dough..."

Damian held his hand out impatiently. "If I eat this, will you shut up?"

Laughing, Dick tossed the bar to his brother and Damian caught it expertly, though cringing slightly when the motion pulled on his ribs.

No longer smiling, Dick grimaced along with him. If Damian was showing pain, things were not good. Bandaging had helped though, as Robin was able to speak easier and walk with less discomfort. _We're both pretty banged up, to be completely honest. Maybe Alfred was right about going back._

 _Then again, Alfred's usually right._

Damian took a small bite of the protein bar, made a face, and began to fill in his brother on the events of the night. As he talked, the plane started to descend through the cloud cover and the main GCPD building slowly came into view. Only something wasn't quite right.

The Gotham Police Department was always busy at all hours, even in the early morning. Crime never sleeps, especially in Gotham, but when Dick looked through the window of the Batplane, he saw no movement in the building.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Robin hefted himself up and walked carefully over to the window, taking care not to strain his midsection. He joined his brother and focused his attention on their final destination. _This is wrong._

With one last look at the desolate building, Dick walked over to the plane's controls and reprogrammed the autopilot to land on the roof of the GCPD. "I'm calling the Commissioner. He'll know what's going on." He pulled the cowl that hung around his neck back on to his head and started to plug in the numbers that he had memorized years ago as Robin. Bruce had insisted that he memorize several phone numbers in case of emergency. The list had seemed extensive and unnecessary at the time, but Dick was grateful to his old mentor for it now.

Meanwhile, Damian had replaced his mask and was beginning to mentally prepare himself for the battle he was sure was ahead.

The League of Assassins prided themselves on mental toughness as well as physical. Their members were trained to have impenetrable minds that could withstand anything, from inhumane torture to psychic mind readers from another planet. They were taught to shut their minds off from pain and terror and essentially become the ultimate killing machines.

As heir to the League, Damian completed this level of training as well but never to the extent that his grandfather expected from him. Ra's broke him down over and over again while his mother stood by and watched. They expected nothing but the best from him, and he in turn expected nothing but the best from himself.

Damian took that training now and applied it to his current mission as Robin. He distanced himself from physical pain to complete his duties and aid Batman in taking down the rest of the drug dealers.

Dick growled in frustration over near the plane controls. There was nothing but dial tone for the past ten minutes. He had dialed Commissioner Jim Gordon's personal cell phone, the GCPD home number, called every office within the police department, but had no success. His final desperate call to Jim's cell led to voicemail yet again, and in frustration Dick put his hands on his head and started to pace in front of the control panel and let the message run.

Then he noticed something strange.

Instead of the usual 'this is Jim, leave a message' there was eerie static for a couple seconds, then a woman's voice came through the speaker. "We've been waiting for you."

Dick stopped dead and whipped around.

Damian was drawn out of his thoughts as well. "What the hell?"

The woman's voice continued softly. "Confused? You should be. You both have completely ruined my plans and you're going to pay, one way or another.

"Yes, I have your commissioner. The entire Gotham police force is under my power. I'm giving you a choice, Batman: attempt to save Jim Gordon and I'll kill him and every other police officer in this building. Or walk away and never return, and I'll let your friends live. The decision is yours."

The woman's voice clicked off and the automated voice message returned. "Please leave a message-"

Dick slammed his hand down on the end call button.

Damian scoffed. "Well there obviously isn't a choice here. We save them. No matter the cost."

The side of Dick's mouth curled up in a small smile. His brother had come a long way since the first time they had met. "Of course, Dami."

"...what are you smiling at Grayson?!"

* * *

Miss B hated the police. They were incompetent, which was good, but they always made life so difficult for hardworking criminals. Batman and Robin aside, Jim Gordon was huge pain in the ass. B would typically just kill him, but she wanted to see the pain and agony on Batman's face as she slowly choked the life out of his business partner.

She hummed a little tune as she dragged an unconscious Gordon from the cells where she had locked up the rest of the officers (with a little help from some thug mercenaries), moving him to the front entrance of the GCPD. Miss B cuffed him to the front door, his head slumped down with blood slowly saturating his hair from a cut on his scalp.

Settling in to the receptionist chair, B put her feet up on the desk and planned her victory celebration.

* * *

Batman crept silently through the halls, Robin following in his shadow. They almost exactly resembled a Batman and Robin of times past, though neither vigilante was anything like their predecessors.

Dick lamented for what seemed like the thousandth time that night his heavy bulky costume and cursed Bruce for being so freaking muscular. The suit was hot, and it made it harder to move noiselessly anywhere. He brought his thoughts back to Jim and the rest of the GCPD. Dick was eager to finally end this criminal's career once and for all; she had caused them enough trouble just in one night.

Batman peered around a corner to the front lobby and saw a woman that could be their perpetrator sitting next to an unconscious Jim Gordon, looking very relaxed. Batman turned to Robin and point down the hallway they had previously entered. Recalling their previously agreed-on plans, Robin nodded and darted silently back into the darkened hallway.

The larger vigilante stepped out from behind the corner and growled in a low gravelly voice, "I don't appreciate it when people mess with my colleagues."

The woman spun her chair slowly to face him. "Batman! I knew you'd show up! Where's Robin? I heard he wasn't feeling too hot. Were my friends too much for the little birdie?"

Batman growled. "I hope you've packed your bags for Arkham because there is no way you're escaping tonight."

"Aw, that's so cute. You're forgetting one small little detail though: I'm in charge here. A little pressure on this trigger here," she cocked her gun and pointed it at Gordon, "and your little friend goes night-night."

"Oh," she continued, "I suppose it's time you get the whole back-story now. You can call me Miss B, B, Bitch, whatever you like. Bad childhood, abusive parents, blah blah blah, drugs and gangs, yada yada yada, you get the point. Things were going well until your buddies Penguin and Croc screwed me over, and you're the only person left I can take my anger out on. Any questions?"

"Just one," Batman replied. "Did you really expect to get away with this?"

With almost impeccable timing, Robin dropped down from an air vent in the ceiling and knocked the gun out of her hands. She threw a punch towards his face but Robin dodged just in time. He grabbed her outstretched fist and wrenched it behind her back, shoving her up against the doors that the unconscious Jim Gordon was still handcuffed to.

"I think you're forgetting, _Robbie,_ " Miss B ground out, "that I have friends too." She turned her head to the side and screamed, "NOW!"

Nothing moved.

"What the hell are you waiting for you imbeciles, _get them!_ " When she realized her help wasn't coming, she started to thrash in an effort to throw off the much smaller Robin, but with no luck. B growled at her helplessness and continued to attempt escape.

Robin just snickered.

Batman replied as he strode across the room to join them. "Good luck with that. They're all taking nice long naps, courtesy of some knock-out gas my partner just happened to drop. It's so hard to find high quality criminals these days." Just as he took the last step needed to close the gap between Robin and the criminal, Batman collapsed.

Hearing the thump of his brother hit the floor, Damian's attention wavered for just a second, and that was all Miss B needed. She drove an elbow into Robin's already damaged side causing him to yell and let go. She sprinted toward her gun, grabbed it, whipped around to put a bullet in a very annoying little kid, when she was hit full in the face by a wave of red and blue blinking lights. B turned to run, but was hit several times with tranquilizer darts before she could move.

The Blüdhaven Police Department had arrived. Dick had called and asked for their help after the threatening voicemail recording from Miss B. He had figured that if she had the Commissioner and the entire GCPD on lock-down, that the Gotham police force wouldn't be much help. Luckily, Dick had another entire police force on speed dial.

Damian barely even noticed the arrival of their backup. He quickly knelt down and felt Dick's neck for a pulse. It was there, but his brother was burning up. He knew it was from the poisoned cut Dick had obtained earlier that night from the automated bird.

 _Robbing a bank with a bird sounds like something Penguin would attempt, but he would never been able to construct something of that caliber himself. He would've had to have help from some criminal familiar with machines, like an homicidal engineer or...a drug-dealing mechanic._

Everything suddenly made sense. Croc and Penguin had teamed up with Miss B after getting out of Arkham to reinstate their positions in the Gotham underworld. She was the head of a major drug operation and needed more muscle. They needed leadership positions and could give her the necessary contacts. Penguin probably threw in the mechanical bird in their contract somewhere.

So if she had created the bird, then she most likely applied the poison that was slowly killing Batman. If Damian could get a sample of the poison she used, Alfred could synthesize an antidote and save Grayson's life.

Only one problem: she was under heavy sedation and now in the custody of the Blüdhaven Police Department.

"Hey guys!" A shout came from across the lobby from the holding cells. "These guys ain't doing so hot! I got no clue what she did to 'em, but they need some doctors like yesterday!"

Damian's head shot up at the officer's words. _If she used the same poison on them as she used on Grayson, there might still be a sample here._

"I will return shortly, Batman." Damian said lowly. "Try not to die in the interim."

With that, Robin ran faster than he ever had in his life towards the holding cells of the Gotham Police Department.

"Hey kid, where ya goin'?!"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N at the bottom.**

* * *

Damian breathed heavily as he sprinted towards the holding cells, praying desperately that there would be something he could use to save his older brother. A sample of the poison would do, as long as Alfred was able to synthesize an antidote. Time was of the essence.

Robin burst through the door into the cells that held the poisoned policemen (Miss B's doing, naturally), his eyes quickly darting around the room. It didn't look like anyone was dead, at least not yet. _There must be something useful here. A jar, a vial, she had to have left_ something _behind._

"You!" Robin barked at one of the poor officers he happened to be next to. "Did that woman-" he coughed heavily into his arm, "-leave anything here?" he finished. Damian ignored the small blood spatter left behind in the crook of his elbow.

"Uh- I don't think-" the officer started, before he was interrupted by a small voice coming from the corner.

"Mr. Robin?"

Damian turned towards the new sound and found a boy only about a couple years older than himself sitting in a cell alone. He was thin and lanky, with sandy brown hair that was dirty and disheveled. The boy looked like he had missed more than a few meals, but yet still had strikingly lively green eyes. He shifted uncomfortably as all eyes in the room turned on him.

"Sir? That lady left these papers on accident. Not sure what they are but if they can help some people you can have them." He offered the pages through the cell bars tentatively.

Damian all but snatched the bundle of sheets from the boy's hands. He rifled through them at lightning speed, begging one of them to give the information he needed to save his brother. As each page was discarded as useless, Damian felt his hope start to dwindle.

Then, by some sort of miracle, he found it.

There was a small handwritten note in the margins of one paper titled "Bond Strength of London-Dispersion Forces". The note read: ' _Still having problems with timing. Substance breaks down too slowly. Must resolve ASAP in lab.'_ Then another note underneath it: ' _Bat given unrefined toxin. 2_ _nd_ _dose fixed and ready to give to officers. -XO, B'_

This must have been why Batman hadn't been affected until much later. The chemical bonds of B's poison were too strong to immediately break down and begin affecting him; it took much longer for the hawk's wound to start shutting down Batman's entire system.

 _So if I am able to create an antidote that causes the bonds in the substance to reform, then the poison will be neutralized for the time being and Alfred can fully rid Batman of the poison when we make it back to the cave._ Damian knew there wasn't much time. He finished reading the page on the bond strengths of the chemical to fully comprehend what combination of substances would temporarily fix their problem. It didn't take long after that for him to raid the GCPD medicine cabinet and create his own antidote, pouring the finished product into a syringe for quick dispersion throughout Grayson's body.

The GCPD officers had been watching Robin's whirlwind of chemistry with wide eyes as their colleagues affected by the poison lay unmoving on the floor. One brave officer stepped up next to Robin as he tested his syringe. "Um, did you figure out how to cure them?" he asked tentatively.

"It is not a complete cure, but it will temporarily rid them of this malady until I am able to synthesize a real antidote. Instructions are on this sheet-" Robin thrust a notebook sheet filled with barely legible scribbles at the shocked officer, "-I hope you are competent enough to figure it out by yourselves. I am needed elsewhere." And with a whirl of his cape he was gone.

Damian sprinted through the halls of the GCPD back towards his idiot brother, antidote in hand. The halls were empty; all the officers had either escorted Miss B to Arkham, or were busy giving their colleagues the poison antidote. They would be lucky if Gotham's criminals didn't hear about the hit the police force had taken tonight, otherwise they make take advantage of the opportunity.

Damian had lost count of the slew of injuries he had incurred tonight- once Batman was taken care of, then he could think about himself. If there was one lesson Grayson had drummed into his admittedly stubborn head, it was that family comes first and Gotham comes second, even at the expense of oneself.

Robin finally reached his target. It felt like he'd been running for hours even though realistically it'd only been a minute or so. His arms and legs ached from the abuse they'd taken throughout the night, not to mention the fire burning in his ribs. His head was on a completely different level though. Damian was pretty sure seeing double wasn't a good sign. The advil he'd taken on the plane had definitely worn off by now. As long as his body didn't completely betray him, he could deal with the pain until he had a chance to get back to the Manor, to Alfred.

But not until Batman was safe.

As Damian reached him, he could tell that his brother was worse. His breathing rasped in his throat. His face was bright red and he was burning up, all signs that the poison had spread, maybe mortally.

Pulling out the antidote syringe clumsily, it took two tries for Damian to get the stopper off. He accidentally tried to grab the stopper's fake concussion-caused twin first before his fingers grasped the real protective cover. Damian's fingers trembled as he opened the small round syringe port in Batman's suit, near his chest. It was invisible to anyone who didn't know its specific location, and Robin's suit had one exactly like it. There was just too much risk of an injury in the field requiring an immediate injection not to have it.

Damian steadied the syringe with both hands, placed it carefully within the open port, then slammed down the plunger. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as Batman's breathing eased and the redness began to fade from his face.

His head was pounding mercilessly now, which was the main reason why he was too distracted to notice the hulking mass that was coming up behind him.

Killer Croc swung a giant fist at Robin's head, which, if it had connected, could've been lights out for the young vigilante. Luckily, Robin rolled out of the way just in time, as he had heard Croc's tail swish on the ground at the very last moment. Batman still lay motionless on the ground.

"Thought you got rid of me, little bird?" Croc smiled, his sharp white teeth glinting in the harsh electric lighting of the room. "No one takes down Killer Croc!" He lunged at Robin with his claws extended, attempting to rip flesh from bone.

 _Batman, wake up!_ Damian knew he couldn't hold off Croc for long. He stayed on the defensive, dodging every malicious attack as best he could with a bashed-in head and far from perfect ribs.

Still, he was Robin, and Robin never backed down from a fight. Especially when there were still civilians in danger.

Damian Wayne al Ghul was going to give that stupid hulking reptile hell if it killed him.

Which it very well might.

* * *

Dick groaned as he stirred on the cold linoleum tile. He remembered an evil woman, some police officers, and _what the hell happened?_

The GCPD was a mess.

Robin was in the process of going one on one with Killer Croc, but it hardly looked like a fair fight. Damian looked as though he'd been through a war. His costume was ripped to shreds, there was a giant bruise on his temple, and he wasn't fighting the way Dick knew he could. Croc had the upper hand, but was having a difficult time landing blows, as Robin was still lightning fast even while injured.

Out of the corner of his eye, Damian noticed Batman stirring on the floor. He threw himself on the offensive, throwing quick punches at Croc's huge jaw. "Took-" punch "-your-" punch "-time-" punch "-getting-" punch "-up!" While Croc shook off Robin's punches, the younger vigilante quickly glanced at Batman to make sure his homemade antidote hadn't actually hurt his brother instead of curing him.

That one glance was all the distraction it took.

"Robin _look out!"_

Too late.

Croc's punch hit Robin full force in the stomach. A sickening _crack_ made Dick wince as Damian was thrown across the tile and hit the opposing brick wall with a thump.

Robin started to cough and choke, each breath felt like fire burning in his chest.

Croc approached the fallen hero slowly, each step rattling the walls. "Thought you could beat me? No no, little bird," he grabbed Robin by the front of his tunic and wound back his other fist, "not toda-"

 _BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Shot after shot rang out, each striking Killer Croc with impeccable aim. The arm, the leg, the knee; all non-lethal shots.

An astonished Robin turned towards the shots' origin: Jim Gordon. He had forgotten all about the Commissioner, handcuffed to the doors of the GCPD by Miss B. He had regained consciousness since their last encounter, used his free hand to reach his gun, and effectively saved Robin's life.

The bullets gave Batman enough time to roll to his feet and shoot the taser from his utility belt to stun Croc further. The massive reptilian monster moved backwards in slow motion as he tried to evade the taser unsuccessfully, then fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Just to be safe, Batman dropped a short range knock out gas pellet on Croc, turning away as he was engulfed by white smoke.

Robin kneeled against the brick wall, fighting desperately to breathe. He was sure that last punch had broken his ribs completely and caused more internal bleeding. _Shit. This was not how this night was supposed play out. I had to prove…had to prove to Grayson that I am fit for Robin. Apparently it is just the opposite._

Damian's vision started to fuzz out, the room somehow getting darker even as the sun was beginning to rise through the glass windows.

"Robin? Robin-" Dick carefully cupped Damian's bloodied face and wiped the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Breathe for me, D. Just breathe. That's it." Every time Damian took a breath, he made an awful gurgling sound, an obvious sign of heavily broken ribs. Dick knew he needed to get Robin to Leslie and fast, or tonight, Killer Croc might just live up to his name.

Behind his domino mask, Damian's eyes fluttered madly as he tried to stay conscious, if only just to make sure Batman was ok. Dick's concerned face swam above him. _Grayson, you're an idiot._ Then he promptly passed out.

"I'll take care of this mess, just go get that boy to a doctor. He did real good work tonight. You should be proud of the kid." Jim Gordon had picked himself free of the handcuffs _(figures the chief of police would know how to do that)_ and walked over to the two vigilantes on the floor.

It was easy to see the bond the two had with each other. Jim didn't have to know their secret identities to figure out they were family, in some sense of the word. There was an unspoken connection, a natural feel they had together. Jim also realized how hard that must make it to go out every night and put their lives on the line for Gotham, all in the name of justice. He certainly would never let Barbara do something like that.

He put his hand on Batman's shoulder. There wasn't much he could say to that priceless sacrifice, so he put it simply. "Thank you."

* * *

 **I hope I ended this decently. Thank you. That's all I can say. Sharing my ideas and my love for these characters with other people is absolutely incredible. In the future I'm looking to foray into Young Justice, Lord of the Rings, Spider-Man and Teen Titans, to name a few, in addition to more Batman stories of course. Stay tuned you guys, and thank you so much for all the love and support!**

 **P.S. SilverRead10- Don't be sad! There will be many more stories to come :)**

 **A nice angsty happy-ending epilogue will be following this chapter (and it can't be too long before I post it because I already have half of it written) so keep an eye out for that. The next work I'll be doing is from my fic "Batman Shorts" as well, so if you haven't already, please read it and let me know which stories you'd like me to expand on!**

 **Also, if you'd like to follow my brand-new tumblr (nerdsandnutella) I will be doing flash-fics and prompt fills. I know, further procrastination on my long fic works, but hey: it stimulates the creativity. Also, it means that if there's something you're DYING to read (Dick and Damian adopt a puppy, for example) it will be written much faster than something I upload to if you ask for it to be written. And if you ask for it, I guarantee I will write it (unless it's slash or something). Eventually I'll probably upload a collection, but for now, find me on tumblr for more timely updates!**

 **ALSO: I am now completely and utterly obsessed with Spider-Man Homecoming. I've seen it four times. #helpmeimbroke #buttomhollandtho**


	9. Epilogue

**What is that…? Is that…an epilogue? It's a miracle! In all seriousness, please please _please_ leave a review if you even so much as somewhat enjoyed this story. It really does encourage me to write tremendously and every single review makes my day. Honestly.**

* * *

Batman scooped up Robin, careful not to jostle him. He nodded in appreciation at Jim, then turned and strode out the front doors of the GCPD at a clipped pace, hitting a button to call the Batmobile as he did so.

As Dick plugged in the coordinates for Leslie's free clinic, he had one thought that swam above the rest of the entire nightmarish night: _Was this my fault?_

It was his decision and his decision alone to make Damian into the next Robin. Bruce wasn't around to voice his opinion, though Dick knew what he would say anyway.

Dick grit his teeth as the Batmobile sped along the Gotham streets on autopilot. He looked over at Damian, white as a sheet and wheezing with every breath. Seeing Jason and Tim injured over the years was bad enough but seeing Damian hurt was even worse. Dick felt more responsible for the kid; in Bruce's absence he was Damian's father figure. He was responsible for Damian's health and wellbeing, as well as make sure he didn't murder anyone.

Damian had no real family with Bruce gone. Ra's and Talia most definitely did not count. It was on Dick to protect his brother with everything he had, but he had almost lost Robin tonight.

...

Before he knew it, the Batmobile rolled to a stop outside a shady-looking doctor's office in the heart of the city. Dick lifted Damian out of the passenger seat _(he's so_ light _)_ and met a tired looking Leslie at the front door.

She shook her head disapprovingly at him, as always. She'd disapproved of Robin since the moment she met him. Every child to wear the Robin moniker had seen her many times, and each time she fixed them up, only for them to run away and break again. It was an endless cycle for the bright red, yellow and green. Yet Leslie still helped; she always would, as long as she was able.

When Dick and Leslie made it into the clinic's back room, Dick carefully laid his brother on the examination table. His eyes were dark and seemingly devoid of emotion, but maybe that was because there was so much there.

He took a few steps back from the table to collapse into one of the waiting chairs.

Dick's shoulders started to shake silently. _Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together._

"…-ick? Dick, can you hear me?"

He looked up and saw a concerned Leslie peering over him. "I'm fine Les, you need to fix Damian. He can't die, you have to help him-"

"Dick." Leslie gently cut him off. "I've been working on Damian for over an hour. You've been completely out of it. It's your turn, sweetheart." She laid her hand on Dick's hunched shoulders. "He's going to be ok. He has a pretty severe concussion, and those ribs are going to need some time to heal, but he's going to be all right."

Looking over at the examination table, Dick saw Damian, clad in only his leggings, bandages around his head and midsection, with his eyes shut peacefully.

 _All right. He's going to be all right._

"Now what hurts? And I'll know if you're lying so don't even try it."

Leslie took another hour to poke and prod Dick, paying special attention to testing blood samples when she learned about the poison he had encountered. Just as she was finishing up, there was slight movement from the smallest person in the room.

Dick was up from his chair like a bullet.

"Dami?" he said hesitantly, as though a loud voice might accidentally hurt his brother more.

Damian winced, cracked one eye open to verify the speaker, then quickly shut it again. The lights seemed unbearably bright. And though Dick's voice was nearly a whisper, it sounded like a cacophony of noise in Damian's injured brain.

" _Grayson,"_ he murmured, barely audible.

Dick leaned in closer to hear him. "Yeah?"

" _Don't_ ever _make me do another stakeout alone or I'll kill you."_

Dick huffed a quiet, teary laugh. "I'll see what I can do bud," he whispered. "How are you feeling?"

Damian didn't respond. He'd already fallen back into a deep slumber, but with much more peaceful facial features. His brother was there, relatively ok, and he wasn't leaving. Damian could let go for a little longer. He was safe.

Dick placed a hand on his shoulder to softly shake him awake again. "C'mon D, you know you're not supposed to sleep with concussions."

His younger brother refused to reopen his eyes, shifting slightly away from the annoyance.

Leslie stepped in and laid a hand over Dick's own. "It's ok Dick. I already gave him a CAT scan and there was no brain swelling detected. You'll need to wake him up in a few hours to check on him again but let his body rest for now."

Dick nodded mutely, sitting heavily back down in his chair, groaning as his body ached. He shook his head in disbelief. "Les," he addressed the doctor, now cleaning up bandages in the opposite corner of the room, "thank you."

"It's my job," she replied. "And if you all didn't make it I'd have way too much free time on my hands. I wish you wouldn't keep me so busy, but that's just the way the world is."

Leslie put away the last few bits of equipment and stood, hands on hips, "You better take care of this boy. I don't want to see him back here anytime soon."

"I'll do my best. The kid's got a strong will of his own though, so no promises." Dick sighed. "I think he just misses his dad."

Leslie maneuvered around the chair Dick was occupying to lower her arm across his shoulders and gave him a comforting squeeze. "Bruce knew you could handle this. I know you can handle this."

With a pat of his arm, Leslie was up and bustling around again, getting the room ready for the plethora of patients that were already lining up at her door. "And you're not alone, you know," she said over her shoulder. "You have me, Barbara, Jason, and Tim's already on his way."

That shook Dick out of his reverie. "Seriously? We aren't talking, Les, I thought you knew that."

"Yes I do, and it's about time for the two of you to kiss and make up already. Your little feud is getting ridiculous." Leslie's stern voice left little room for argument. That was one of the most annoying things about the Bats; they were all too stubborn to ever admit being wrong. Normally Dick was good about forgiveness, but with Bruce being gone he was becoming more and more like his absent foster father.

It was time for someone to shake him out of it.

"Dick?" Tim's hesitant voice came in through the clinic lobby. "You in there?"

"Come on in Tim." Leslie called.

Tim walked in through the door, drawing a sharp breath when he saw his injured brothers. "What the hell happened? And why didn't you call me? What the hell is wrong with you? Is Damian ok? How-" Tim's furious slew of questions was cut off when a pair of strong, tan arms wrapped around him, clutching him tightly. Tim, surprised, gently returned his older brother's hug, careful to avoid the many bandages encircling his body.

The apology wasn't in words, but it was enough for now.

"Are you ok?" Tim whispered in his ear, calmer this time.

Dick pulled away with red eyes but a smile on his face. "Yeah, I'm good. Dami's not great though." He looked at his sleeping younger brother, his face a mix of emotions. "It's a long story. I'm sure Alf would make us some breakfast if you want to come stay at the manor for a bit?" he turned and his ocean blue eyes met Tim's own. "I need to get Dami back in his own bed. I don't want him waking up again with that concussion in a strange place."

"Yeah, all right. I don't have any plans for today anyway, and I haven't had Alfred's cooking in forever." Tim genuinely missed his older brother. Pride had gotten in the way of their relationship for too long, and Dick needed him now more than ever.

Damian still annoyed Tim and he was sure the kid would still try to kill him the moment he could get out of bed, but he was still only 11 years old. What's the worst that could happen?

Leslie had watched the exchange with a small smile on her aged, weary face. They were going to be ok. Maybe not now, but eventually.

She would make sure of it.

* * *

 **Might write a sequel, might not. Let me know what you think! Pretty pretty please shoot me a review and make my day! Now that it's almost summer and I'm out of school, I'll be writing a lot more, so go ahead and follow me if you're feelin' it. I love you all, thanks again for sticking with me. More adventures to come!**


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